Steele Missing You
by RJ Harrington
Summary: Kissing Laura in his bedroom stirred a reaction Remington usually controlled, prompting Laura to stop and lean back. She'd noticed and didn't seem to mind. UPDATED


**Steele Missing You**

Vol. 8

Introduction: _When_ _Laura and Remington return from London with Remington's new passport, they jump right back into cases and their relationship. How do they get from "taking time" in Steele of Approval to the next level in Season Four? (And, oh yes, they ARE at the next level *wink*) Here's my take on what happened between landing at LAX after Steele Searching and the next day at the office. ..__.and for Myrtle, a special treat. Enjoy. _

Rating:_ rating: M for mature audiences (not Jillysafe)_

Note:_ A special thank you to Mrs. Peppler for her guidance and editing talent._

Disclaimer: _I don't own it; I don't profit._

By R.J. Harrington,

Remington plopped his suitcase onto the bed, bouncing the mattress under the weight. He scooted next to the bag and flipped the locks. He couldn't stop smiling. There on top of his cleaned clothes sat a passport in his real name, or at least the name he now claimed. He _was_ Remington Steele and this was documentation to prove it.

The small booklet offered the most convincing sign yet of his partner's commitment, not only to the agency with him at the figurative helm, but to them as a couple. He stared at the name, rubbing his thumb across the page before remembering he was in a hurry.

He'd convinced Laura to join him for delicious canard and cabernet at his place. Plans for candlelight, slow dancing and lots of kissing were in order. He'd missed her deeply and was so glad to be home. For the first time in weeks, he was happy.

Laura squeezed a towel around her wet hair and studied her wardrobe. Something stunning would do nicely. Tonight, she wanted to dazzle him, not because she had to – Remington certainly had seen her worst – but because she wanted to. After all, she'd flown 6,000 miles to profess her love, albeit unspoken, and to make permanent Remington Steele's identity. Dowdy frocks and pencil skirt work suits weren't going to cut it.

She eliminated outfits, one-by-one, before spotting a shoulder of pale blue, barely visible at the end of the rod. She lifted the hanger and held the dress at arms length, flushed with playfulness.

"This should do the trick."

She pulled the dress over her shoulders and wiggled it to her knees, turning to see in the mirror. It was one of two dresses she'd bought three years ago for Gordon Hunter's introduction of the Jetstar 6000. She'd decided the blue dress hugged a bit too tight for Hunter's soirée, so she went with the more formal red gown.

For tonight, however, the baby blue number was perfect. She slinked the straps onto her shoulders and popped on silver slingbacks. With smoky eyeliner and curls in place, she grabbed her wrap. Laura didn't know what to expect from this first night back with Remington Steele, but she was excited to find out. If it was anything like she planned, she wouldn't be going home tonight.

Remington hustled through the kitchen, checking stock, feeling his collar for a necktie and speeding around the table. "Plate, napkin, fork, knife," he mumbled as he touched each one. Then, the door buzzed. "Laura."

One more glance at the fireplace and then he quietly opened the door.

"Laura …. You look stunning."

"Thank you." She strutted past him.

He leapt to catch up and pulled the wrap from her shoulders, stopping mid-step to gawk at the dress, his mouth agape.

"Something the matter, Mr. Steele?"

"Uh, no, not at all." The question jarred his trance long enough to carry her wrap and clutch to the bedroom. He returned to find Laura leaning over the table smelling the centerpiece, her hemline rising.

"Peonies."

"Hmm?"

"The flowers."

"Oh, lovely."

The lilt in her voice harkened to that moment outside a Cannes hotel room where Laura turned it on with little input from her date. He hadn't appreciated it then, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. This time, he was ready. His daydream came to an abrupt halt when he realized Laura had wandered away and was heading for the kitchen.

A few long strides later, he was right behind her. The room swirled with the smell of roasted duck and garlic, seducing Laura to get a closer look at the fare. As soon as she bent over the counter and inhaled, Remington pushed against her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him, his lips sliding across her neck.

"Mr. Steele," she giggled with mock surprise.

He brushed goose bumps from her neck to her shoulder to her hairline, her head falling onto his shoulder as she struggled to stand. He held on until she turned in his arms and pressed into an urgent kiss, her hand buried in his hair, pulling him to her. It's what she'd wanted to do in London, not track down a murderer, but better late than never. His fingers stretched around her neck, tangling in upswept curls. She tugged at his shoulders, sealing his mouth with a searching kiss. It was desperate and reassuring. The passion eventually gave way to tender touches, leaving them face-to-face and smiling.

"I missed you, Laura." His blue eyes ablaze.

"I know."

She tapped one more kiss to his lips and then repositioned her skirt.

"Shall we?" With Laura's arm around his, Remington escorted his date to the table, pulling her chair to the side and sliding it back into place.

For the next hour, they stole kisses and fed each other tender bird and succulent mangos while downing more wine than they intended. Laura laughed at Remington's stories about near capture at several airports and how out of practice he had become at swindling. They both avoided the topic that sent him to London in the first place. After four glasses of wine, Remington raised Laura's hand to kiss it and then headed to the kitchen to dispose of the china.

When he returned, he found her nestled on the couch with her wine, staring at the fire.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm just thankful we made it back, that's all."

"Yes, well, we've never been much for simplicity."

"No, we haven't."

Remington plucked Laura's wine from her fingers and set the goblets on the table before leading her to the floor and lying next to her, propped on his elbow; his white shirt hanging open.

"Laura," he waited for her to look at him, "can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." The wine and giddiness had kicked in.

"Before I left for London, I stopped by your loft." She stopped smiling. "You weren't there. … So, I talked to your landlord. He said you'd just left for a trip and he didn't expect you back until Monday. Were you going somewhere?"

Laura stared at the floor. "Yes."

"Needed a bit of a holiday, did we?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"And, your location of choice?"

"Nowhere, actually. I didn't end up going on the trip after all."

"Oh," Remington pondered, "Were you traveling alone?"

"Not exactly."

"Mildred?"

"No."

"Who then?" Remington waited. "Laura?"

"I'm sorry. I was hurt and confused…" She stood and stumbled to the bedroom for her wrap. "I should go. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Laura!" Remington caught up. "Laura, wait."

With her wrap in hand and shoulders slumped, Laura reached for the door. Remington caught her arm before she could turn the knob.

"What's going on?"

Laura closed her eyes and shook her head. A long pause separated them as Remington's anxiety grew and Laura didn't seem in any rush to explain. "Laura?"

"I was going to Mexico City, alright … with William Westfield."

"William Westfield!"

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"You sacrificed our partnership to spend the weekend with a man you barely knew!" Laura took off, walking around the apartment gathering shoes with Remington in tow, his voice rising. "Another man, Laura? Why? Was he better than me?"

"Oh, that's not fair, like you haven't …"

"Haven't what?"

"Never mind."

"William Westfield?"

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, I didn't go through with it."

"How far _did_ you go?"

"A few kisses … the airplane."

"You got on the plane?"

"And, I – got – off. What do you want me to say?"

His look of hurt was piercing.

"Nothing," Remington calmed. "I suppose there's nothing you can say."

Remington glanced at the blue dress, reminded of the evening lost, and walked to his bedroom. He retreated to the edge of the bed with his head sunken in his hands. He listened to Laura mumbling through the living room, hunting her shoes, then silence. After a few moments, she appeared in the doorway.

"I was scared, and angry. You'd lost our license and that agency is everything to me."

"So, you decided to get payback by hopping in the sack with William Westfield?"

"I didn't go through with it. That should count for something."

"What if I had done the same, eh, Laura?"

"Didn't you? You were frolicking around with Felicia the last I remember."

"Nothing happened between Felicia and me. I didn't have anywhere else to go. I needed food and a place to stay. Besides, look where that got me. She ratted me out to Scotland Yard." Remington sighed and returned his head to his hands. Laura watched before turning to walk to the door.

Remington couldn't let the night end like this, not after everything they'd just gone through to get them here. He lifted his head from his hands. "Don't go."

She stopped. In a whisper that was barely audible, she made out one more plea.

"Laura … Please stay."

A slow turn revealed just enough of her face to see a tear slipping down her cheek. Any sign of emotion from Laura Holt was a rarity for him and it suddenly came with guilt that he was the cause. Remington took two long strides from the bed to stand in front of her, gently wiping the tear and sliding his hand over hers. "Don't cry."

The two detectives stood in silence in the doorway until Laura sighed. "Do you know why I was going to Mexico City?" Remington shook his head, afraid of what came next. "Because I needed to prove to myself that I didn't need you."

Remington intended to respond, but only managed a bewildered stare.

"Do you know why I stayed?" She lifted her eyes to his. "Because I do. I do need you."

This was more honesty in one night than Remington was prepared to handle. It was Laura's first clear declaration of how she felt about him, about them as a couple and as partners. Maybe it was a sign she finally trusted him, personally and professionally. He wanted so badly to tell her he loved her.

He stared at Laura's glistening eyes, listening intently until he could find something agreeable to say. Laura beat him to it. "Why is this always so hard?"

"I don't know. … I know I care for you, Laura, very much, and that it scares the hell out of me."

Laura laughed and glanced at the floor. "I suppose fear keeps getting in our way."

"You know what Henry James says about fear, that you must look fear in the face… or was that Eleanor Roosevelt? I get them confused."

Laura giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just shut up." She crept onto her toes and leaned to kiss him, her lips working slow and deliberate. Remington slid his palms across her back, caressing warm skin and pulling her to him as he leaned against the wall.

Kissing Laura in his bedroom stirred a reaction Remington usually controlled, prompting Laura to stop and lean back. She'd noticed and didn't seem to mind.

Her lips caressed his neck, lingering at each touch, following the curves of his body until she pushed his shirt aside to reach his chest. Remington stood motionless, talking himself down. If this was going where he thought it was, it wasn't going to last long in this state – feverishly hot would be an understatement.

She kissed along his collarbone and followed the tight curve of his muscles until she reached his nipple, brushing her lips over the peak. Remington closed his eyes. She worked the rest of the buttons, pushing the shirt open and sliding it over his shoulders. Her lips reached the other side of his warm chest and captured him in her mouth, fluttering her tongue.

Remington exhaled, and with a swift move, grabbed Laura's waist and the back of her head, pulling her up for a kiss. He held her there, tangling his tongue with hers as she dipped her fingers through his hair and slid her hands across his warm back.

Remington caught his breath long enough to speak through quick pants. "Laura, I'm not sure I can keep this up without going to a place you may not be ready to go." He glanced at the bed. "My bedroom; your hands pulling at my clothes; that dress. It's a little too much for me to resist."

"Who says you have to resist, Mr. Steele?" She said, kissing his neck. "Why do you think I wore this dress? Hmmm. And, flew 6,000 miles to see you?"

"I … don't know."

"Really, Mr. Steele, I taught you better than that. You're a trained detective. Detect."

Remington grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bed. "So, this is it, eh?"

"Not if you keep talking it isn't."

Remington cradled Laura's face in his hands, watching her expression for clues that would warn of a pending change of heart. "Are you sure, Laura?"

"I'm sure."

Remington took a step back and grasped the skirt of Laura's dress, slowly lifting it over her head. He had seen her in lace teddies before – for that matter, a whole winery had seen her – but something about seeing her vulnerable, wearing strapless silk and lace was beautiful. Her freckle-covered skin glistened. After wanting her for three years, the moment was surreal. They both smiled and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Laura?"

"I'm OK. Just a little overwhelmed."

Remington kissed her cheek with reassurance. He watched her reach for his belt and pop it open, shaking his head with disbelief. He fully expected a pinch at any moment to wake him from this blissful dream. Instead, he looked down to find his partner sliding his black belt from his waist and dropping it to the floor. Next came his shoes, socks and slacks, leaving only tight black briefs, which fit a little tighter than usual at the moment.

He pulled Laura to him and tapped his lips to hers. He worked his way down her neck and onto her shoulder, slowly pulling the silk teddy to her waist. She didn't budge and urged him on. His mouth worked its way down her chest, caressing one breast with his lips while his fingers danced around the other. She grasped his shoulders to stay upright.

"Mr. Steele, I can't stay up much ….."

"Really, Laura, as sexy as it is to sleep your way to the top, 'Mr.' seems a little formal, don't you think?"

"Right, sorry."

"No need to apologize Miss Holt."

Remington quickly slid his hands under her knees and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. He gently laid her on what was to become her side of the bed, and slid next to her, running his hand down her body. He liked being able to touch her. She turned on her side and tugged at his briefs, sliding them off onto the floor. He stole another kiss before lying back and letting her lips and nimble fingers explore him. He didn't need to see her reaction to know she was satisfied with what she found. She took her time to sample every nook, alternating between caresses and wet kisses before crawling between his legs. She shot him a wicked grin and then leaned to touch him. He stopped breathing and clutched the pillow under his head. This was so much better than he imagined.

"Laura, if you keep this up..."

She teased him and rerouted her kisses along his thighs and once more where he felt it most, then moved up his body to lie on top of him. She flashed the impish grin she usually reserved for crime solving and added a touch of sweetness. He'd never felt closer. He opened his mouth to meet hers before flipping her on her back.

Before she could protest, Remington put his finger to her lips. "Ah, ah, no arguing, I want to touch you."

She laid back so he could slide her undergarment across her toes, and stayed mum when he announced he was going to caress her body in any way he chose. It was sensual and romantic mixed with moments of sweat and desperation. He certainly knew what he was doing. He started and stopped and teased until it threatened frustration. On the brink of Laura begging, he stopped teasing and paid full attention to the goal. It didn't take long. Her breath quickened and body arched, her hand clutching his hair as her groans grew louder. Once she let go, Remington stopped and quickly crawled above her. Her eyes closed.

"Laura, look at me."

The flood of endorphins held her motionless. She worked to open her eyes and look at him, reaching to touch his cheek. Once she focused, he wrapped her legs around him and paused. He brushed her hair from her forehead, then reached to make sure he was aligned before slowly pushing inside of her. She gasped and reached for him, pulling him against her, searching for his face to plant a hard kiss. He moved slowly as they groaned and found air long enough to proclaim how good this felt. It was a good thing his walls weren't really paper thin.

The pace quickened. Laura tightened her legs around his waist and her lips found his chest once more. As much as he wanted this to last for hours, the intense need and her warm body overtook him. Remington managed one last breathless "Laura" before seizing her mouth and releasing inside of her. His pace slowed as his body relaxed and he collapsed on top of her. He gathered enough strength to push himself up, not wanting to crush her and rocked slowly a few more times before stopping. He stayed hovered above her, still connected and watched her. He'd waited a long time to feel her warmth and he wasn't in a hurry to leave. Laura finally opened her eyes and smiled, signaling him to withdraw and slide next to her. She draped her leg across him and waited for him to catch his breath.

"Laura, that was … that was …" He started to fall asleep. "… Incredible."

He took a deep breath and turned to look at her. He moved his fingers across her lips and gently kissed her. "I'm a lucky man."

"Yes, you are."

He smiled and pulled her closer; admiring her flushed skin and freckled cheeks. The hairs around her face had curled from the humidity. He already relished his new role as lover, even though he had to admit he was glad they'd waited…And, giving the company credit card to Mildred for an all-night gambling spree was brilliant. The thought almost made him laugh. He caught himself and refocused. Laura looked so innocent and trusting; waiting for him to tell her it was OK. He brushed his thumb across her cheek.

"I love you, Laura."

Her quiet tears finally fell. She tapped a wet kiss on his lips and pulled the sheet over them, nestling in his shoulder. "I know."

The End


End file.
